Competition and Contagion
by xCharlie-Groupiex
Summary: Kate is sick, and competition to be the one to get to baby her therefore arises. Between who, you ask? Why, Jack and Sawyer of course! The REAL question is, who will come out the winner? Please read and review! Skate.


**A/N: Just a random little one-shot drabble that I've been meaning to write. I haven't written any Skate in like a year! Far, far too long when it comes to such a great couple. Hope you guys enjoy! R&R!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Lost the grand season six finale would have been much, much different. Even though it actually wasn't half bad :)**

**Set in season two, the first few episodes where Hurley's still in charge of food, after the tailies join up with the rest of our Lostie dears.**

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Competition is Contagious:

"Hey Freckles," Sawyer grinned, poking his head into Kate's tent. She hadn't made any of her now ritual (and quite welcome, though Sawyer would never let her in on that fact) appearances around camp, or at his tent for that matter, all day. Wondering why this was and growing peeved and secretly more than a little concerned, Sawyer had made the decision to make the short journey to her tent and check up on her.

"Working hard or hardly working?"

From her position sprawled across a pile of blankets on the ground in the shade of her tent, the brunette glared up at him, blowing sweaty bangs out of her eyes. "What does it look like?" She mumbled, her pale face a sign that all was not well in the land of Kate.

This kind of retort Sawyer had expected-and her spunk amused him, even though his heart gave a little thud at the sight of the unhealthy hollowness in her freckled cheeks. The effort of hostility that had long so far been considered norm in the conversations between them was stunted, not measuring up to how well Kate usually succeeded in it by the sound of phlegm in her throat and a stuffy nose.

Sawyer chuckled at this, raising an eyebrow at her where she lay exhausted looking beneath his stance. Him being on his feet and Kate in her heap on the ground made him look towering. Realizing this, he took a seat on the ground beside her, though not too close that she would be able to reach out and hit him, like she tended to do, or so that he could feel what would be much enjoyed heat that was radiating from her body.

Freckles may look queasy and sick right now, but she was still Freckles, and letting her know how much he felt for her by tackling her for a kiss was the last thing Sawyer wanted to do. Well actually, not necessarily the last. The first, really, if Sawyer was being honest with himself. But only if Kate responded to such an action in a manner that told Sawyer she felt the same.

"Y'know, ya look like you just might be sick, Freckles," he commented, to drive her mad and also because it was easy to tell. "Say...you sick?"

Kate shifted so that she was half sitting, propped up on her elbows. Her cheeks were a little flushed and there was a feverish gleam to her eyes. Sawyer's heart went out to the girl, much as he wished he wasn't as softie and womanish as that (in his as well as Ana Lu-effing-cia's GREATLY valued opinion), but at the same time the Southerner couldn't help finding humour in Kate's situation. That even in her less than fit fiddle condition, Kate had managed to maintain the attitude she always seemed to keep reserved for him.

"Oh, now that one's easy," Kate muttered, quite obviously aiming to come across as sarcastic, but with her heart not really into it, he could see. "I'll take _No Shit, Sherlock _for five hundred, John!"

Sawyer's eyebrows rose even higher than they'd already been and he frowned, with utter confusion. "You delirious, or what? You call me _James_, sweetheart. Girl, John ain't even here...!"

At this, Kate's glare became even more intense. "I was trying to put you back in your place," she growled, as if this had been the most obvious thing ever.

Needless to say, it hadn't.

Most of the time, provoking Kate's wrath was a dangerous game, downright sketchy. The fact that she looked like she'd barely be able to stand right now, though, helped Sawyer to overcome the fear he had long had of angering her. Fear he'd felt (mixed with affection, confusion, and resentment, of course) since she'd headbutted him the that day way back when of their first kiss. Sawyer remembered the day incredibly clearly, which was kind of natural since he'd spent it tied to a tree with ripped, freaky Army Guy (who he really shouldn't hold such a grudge against now, he guessed, since the guy was grieving his woman's loss). Though he had just been tortured at the time, the headbutt Kate had needlessly delivered him had really, _really _hurt.

"No," Sawyer pointed out helpfully, aware that what he was about to say might have earned him another one of those nearly deadly headbutts if Kate had been feeling better than she was. Good thing she wasn't, then. "You were trying to be funny. And, might I cheerfully add, failed miserably." This with a wide grin that might better help convict him as innocent. Innocent of anything Kate might, in her unhealthy stupor, at this moment be blaming him for.

"Shut up!" Kate looked really riled up now, though the expression of rage she was giving him was interrupted when she went into a fit of coughing. When she had recovered, "Who told you you were allowed to sit in my tent, anyway?"

Sawyer shrugged, still smiling hugely and like an idiot, he was aware. "I do whatever I please, Princess, including invade people's tents. Don't look like you're in any shape to stop me, either, do it?"

"I hope my coughs got on you."

Sawyer heaved a heavy, overly exaggerated sigh. "Why you ain't seen Doc about not feelin' well anyway, air head? Jack could give ya something, a heavy dose."

It was Kate's turn to shrug now, although by the grimace she made, it hurt her neck. "I don't want him to worry," she told him, after a pause. Sawyer rolled his eyes, irritated that she had forethought about their doctor. "With him checking up on me every five minutes I won't be able to get any rest."

Before Sawyer even had anything to say in response to this she continued, making eye contact pointedly, "Kind of like I'm not being able to get any right now!"

For once, Sawyer didn't know what to say. "What, you don't like my company, Freckles?" A charming smirk played at his lips, although inside he was hoping it wasn't true. "I know a surefire way to help you get some good, well deserved sleep. How 'bout it?"

Kate obviously immediately got the hidden meaning in his words, but just lay back in her mound of blankets nonetheless, breathing in and out so shaky and deeply that she could have been mistaken for the late Shannon (besides the brown hair and freckles) as an asthmatic. Ah, there went more memories of that day of their kiss for having pretended to have stolen the inhalers, again!

She stared at him, an eyebrow arched in that challenging way that Freckles had. "You're giving me a headache. And you know, I already don't feel good, Sawyer."

Sawyer glared, affronted but still with a joking edge. "Ya little minx! You're hintin' for me to leave, aren't you?" Quivering with false indignation now, "why, I have never ever been so insulted in my whole life!"

Despite herself, Kate laughed; a rough, wheezing sound. It was pretty funny how much the redneck's accent thickened whenever he got agitated. Kind of cute, too. "Sawyer, get oouuttt," she whined, insistent enough to seem to mean it.

Now Sawyer actually _did _feel rather neglected, and a little hurt, too. "Bet you'd let Jack hang around in here whenever he'd want," he muttered, an accusation, coming across as a jealous boyfriend. Far from the intention he'd had in mind. Then, so that she didn't hear, "Probably let 'im sponge bathe ya if he knew you were sick, too."

"Sawyer," Kate's usually musical voice was now barely distinguishable as she sniffled. "That's not the point."

Sawyer tried to hide the way envious rage was making his face feel and grow hot. That hadn't been a denial. Why'd he even bother with Freckles, anyway?

Oh, because she was the only one on the island—hell, the only one he'd ever met—who really knew how to understand him. Right.

"So I come here to make sure you haven't gotten stuck participatin' in a bible study with Eko or been bulldozed by one a them jungle buffalo-pigs, and all I get is kicked out?" He demanded, exclaiming loud enough to hurt Kate's head even more and make her wince. By far not the best sickbed guest. Sawyer was on his feet now and pacing instead of taking the dignity he still had left and getting out. "That's nice Freckles, real grateful and sweet."

Kate's mouth flew open, causing Sawyer to back away a little so she didn't infect him with her sick-y unwell germs. Looking like she wanted to prove just how not nice and ungrateful she could be, and with a mouthful of swears, too.

Instead, she settled with saying, fake smiling sweetly, "And bothering me for no reason and keeping me up, too, you forgot that part."

"Whatever, Kate," Sawyer snapped, stopping to glower at her, direct eye contact made, before lifting the tent flap and heading out down the beach. "_Get better_," in a mocking sort of tone.

It was only after he'd left that Kate realized he'd actually used her name.

**Down the beach...**

"C'mon, Stay Puff, just _one _can of Campbell's. Freckles is sick. It will do her some mmmhh mmm good!"

After an hour or so of thinking, Sawyer had come to the conclusion that he didn't want to fight with Kate. He really liked her, even if it was against his better judgement—con men weren't supposed to, shouldn't, fall in love. Not that that was what he was. But it would be better to quit while he was ahead, before he got in too deep.

Even knowing this, though, Sawyer had searched out Hurley to get something from him that would help him in doing the exact opposite. Ironic, isn't it?

"Trying to score brownie points?" Hurley asked, looking dubious.

Sawyer rolled his eyes, already growing frustrated. Forgetting that when getting things from the big guy everybody liked it was best to ask nice. "Hell nah! And even if I was, I wouldn't involve _you_, Big Boy. They'd all be gone within a minute!"

Hurley frowned, shaking his head. "Dude. That was mean. When will you ever learn?"

Sawyer was silent while he thought up a comeback for a second. "When..when you stop being so fat!"

Hurley shrugged, face blank. "You must be stressed out, 'cause usually you've got better than that. Is that really all you've got?"

"Throw the line at me one more time."

Hurley rolled his eyes. "When will you ever learn?"

"...Never!"

"Dude, my mom can burn better than you right now. You're losing your touch. I don't think you're making a real effort!"

Sawyer sighed. "Obviously. Now give me some of that soup. You know what they say, and I'm sure you would know. It's mmh mmh good!"

"Huh. You really _must_ be concerned that Kate is sick." Hurley frowned again. "And stop that."

A voice recognizable as Jack's approached them from behind. "Kate is sick?"

Sawyer mentally cursed. _Sick of you! _He wanted to say, but the big guy was right. His one-liners were suffering severely due to his stress, and he didn't want to embarrass himself or waste his time on a showdown with Jack. Which at any other time he would conquer at.

"Maybe," he allowed, wishing the island doctor hadn't walked in on their conversation just then. "What's it to ya?"

Jack chuckled, shaking his head at Sawyer, much like Hurley just had. "What do _you_ think, Sawyer? I'm the doctor. Remember?"

Sawyer grit his teeth. "Yep. You're the hero. How could I forget?"

Jack raised one shoulder then lowered it, as if to say 'that I do not know'. "First of all, I'm not a hero. Even if I was, though, you shouldn't, since I'm the one giving you the meds for that shoulder of yours with the bullet hole."

"Rings a bell," Sawyer said. Hurley just stood, watching in silence as the two men compared themselves to each other, weighing their chances of being the one to be the most accepted in Kate's heart. It's a well known fact that people are more vulnerable when they're sick.

Jack shuffled a few feet, then looked over his shoulder back the way he'd come. "I was wondering where Kate's been all morning. I wonder why she didn't come to me she wasn't feeling good..." A slight pause as Jack was deep in thought. Then, "Well, it's been nice talking to you, Hurley," although he and Hurley hadn't exchanged any words just then, at all. "Um...Sawyer," he acknowledged. Acknowledged what Sawyer didn't know. "I'd better go check on Kate now."

"Shouldn't you be discussin' the political issue of the Others with Ana Lucia?" Sawyer questioned, looking worried, talking nonsense if only to get Jack to abort that plan of his. A last minute attempt to veer him from going to see Kate and possibly winning her favour. Forever."Counselling sessions with Sayid, giving the dog his worms shot or somethin'?"

Jack just stared, a simultaneously curious and knowing half smile adorning his face, which nonetheless looked weary due to everything he'd been through in the last week or so; nursing Sawyer back to health, Shannon's death, the issue of Sayid and the tailies having come to join all of them.

"Dude, that comment about Sayid? _This is what I'm talking about_! Insensitive much?"

Sawyer whirled around, about ready to snap. "Well thank you, Dr. Phil! "

"You're not nice!" Hurley stalked off, sinking deep into the sand as he stomped away.

"No, Hurley, wait! Come back! I NEED YOU!" And when that didn't work, "Fine, see if I care! Get the damn hobbit to console you you big lump! Maybe Sayid should join you, though I DOUBT HE WILL!"

Which did not get the result intended when Hurley flipped him the bird instead of, like Sawyer had imagined, bursting into tears.

Sawyer was immediately half jogging half speed walking (lest he appear too eager) to Freckles' tent, then, because Jack was probably already there-with ammo-and time was a ticking. When he got there, Jack was just arriving, a delicious looking smoothie in a tall glass in his hands.

"Here, Kate, I heard you were sick," he turned to Sawyer who stood in the entrance. Kate reached up to take it, sitting crossed legged and smiling at Jack appreciatively, which transformed into a scowl as soon as she saw Sawyer. The doctor's smile looked meek and exhausted, but proud."I made it myself. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling so good?"

"Thank you Jack," Kate replied, her voice still phlegm-y but sounding extra thankful for Sawyer's benefit. She was about to add something more when Sawyer jumped in, the way he tended to.

"Maybe she 'didn't want to worry you'," he offered innocently, only he and Kate knowing that he was quoting her earlier words.

Kate hid a glare behind a reluctant smile. "Actually, that's exactly what I was about to say," she replied, and Jack sat down right next to her, so close that their thighs touched.

"It really wouldn't have been a bother," Jack assured her, looking into her glowing green eyes warmly. Seeing their closeness, Sawyer felt sick to his stomach, unable to do anything standing in the entrance to Kate's tent. What he wanted to do was lunge forward and rip Jack away from her.

"I'll get you some Tylenol or something later. Don't worry, the smoothie's not drugged," and at that they both laughed. About some inside joke Sawyer didn't know a thing about, Kate's chuckle still sounding raspy.

Sawyer realized he couldn't bear to watch their camaraderie anymore. Not if he wanted to refrain from throwing up all over Jack's head (which he didn't really, but there you are), and so he turned around and left. Not that the other two even noticed. Three was a crowd, anyway—and Sawyer would agree. If only it was he and Kate sitting together instead of her and Jack.

He made his way over to the Hatch anyway, as fast as his weakened state would let him. He was still healing, after all. Maybe Jack would end up winning this little competition for Kate's heart (because that was exactly what it was, a competition), true. It was well possible, even probable, considering Sawyer's having-annoyed-Kate circumstance.

But no way was he going down without a fight.

Sawyer entered the Hatch through the hidden doorway Kate had shown him just a day or two earlier (how long ago that seemed!), then went swiftly to the pantry near the kitchen. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago he and his Freckles had been getting along so well—when it came to remembering how he'd been saved from fighting infection in the would of his arm, all he could remember, even if he couldn't really remember that much, was her. Kate holding his hand, Kate talking to him, Kate refreshing his water.

And now they were fighting, the way they always fought every other week or couple of days. Just when they had really began getting along. All because he hadn't been very nice to her, because Kate apparently didn't appreciate teasing while she was sick.

Well, at least he knew for next time.

Sawyer searched for a while, the pain in his arm palpable. Then finding what he needed he headed toward the stove, prepared to cook—if adding water and stirring could be considered that-for the first time since the crash. Once the soup was ready, which didn't take long, he left the Hatch for the semi-long trek back to the beach. Which, as is to be expected, was extraordinarily risky with one gimped arm and a bowl of hot soup in the other hand.

This time when he arrived at Kate's tent, it was, thankfully, empty. "Freckles?" He entered without knocking, since there was nothing to knock _on _and because his one good hand was full.

Kate was still in the spot he'd left her, looking drowsy and with balled up Kleenexes on the ground near her feet. Sawyer stepped over them to get closer to her, and she opened her eyes.

"Sawyer," she greeted, sounding wary but less annoyed than she had earlier. "What you got there?"

"What's it look like?" He knelt next to her, offering her the bowl, but his eyes and tone were gentle. He grinned faintly, quoting Jack this time. "Made it myself, you know."

Kate gave a little chuckle. "It's not a competition, James. I'm just sick, that's all. You guys are acting like I'm dying and that if I survive, whoever is the one who makes me better, wins. It's not a competition," she said again, taking a sip. Then her eyes lit up. "Chicken noodle?"

Sawyer grinned. "Just what the doctor ordered, Freckles."

Kate laughed, shook her head. "Nope, actually the doctor ordered me to get some rest and keep you away from me. He says when you're sick, stress is baaad," she stretched out the last part, staring at him without blinking. Slightly accusing, the way he'd been earlier, but looking like she might just be willing to forgive.

"Since when do you listen to crock-pot doctors?" Sawyer asked, and when she grinned sheepishly at him he knew they were on good terms again.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

Sawyer cracked a smile. "Yep, I guess I am."

There was silence as Kate drank her soup, and Sawyer asked himself if he had won. Chicken noodle soup was better when you were sick, for sure—even if it was just Campbell's. And despite what he'd said, Jack probably _had _drugged Kate's smoothie with a sleeping pill or something. She looked out of it.

"I'm sorry Freckles," Sawyer said, suddenly, and Kate didn't have to ask to know what he was talking about. "I don't want ya to be mad, girlie. Even if right now you _are _sick and disgusting." He was almost scared that a comment such as this wasn't something he would get away with, but Kate just rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, too. I do appreciate you coming to check up on me, even if you give me head aches with your stupid Texan stupid twang."

"I'm from Tennessee!"

"Mmkay. You're still a hic."

And with that she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, not caring that a good amount of very hot soup got spilled onto his front (though Sawyer had to admit, he did, a little). Just kissed him the way she had that day they had kissed for the first time, the way she'd been wanting to ever since, their hands stroking each others faces and in each others hair, tongues tangling. All the worry she'd felt for him when he'd been on the raft and especially when she'd found out he'd been shot mixed in, and the affection especially.

It didn't solve the fact that it was virtually impossible for the Southern to stop that God forsaken teasing, and he didn't tell Kate he loved her the way he had just figured out, had been figuring out step by step all along, that he did. Their mouths on each others didn't tell Kate who she would choose between Sawyer and Jack—though she and Jack had never kissed before, and she was quite enjoying what she and Sawyer had right now.

Despite enjoying himself immensely, too, Sawyer kept gagging at the prospect of Kate getting him sick, which he imagined she could tell, because while they were still kissing she gave him a good whack. Neither did Sawyer take back what he had said about Kate's current grossness. But he didn't have to. She could tell he thought she was beautiful by the way he kissed.

"Oh baby," murmured Sawyer, voice husky but joking the way he always was, all the same. "You taste mmm mmmh good."

To which an enraged Hurley yelled from a mile away, "_Shut the fuck up_!"

All in all, it was a messy affair. Yet neither of them would have it any other way. Well, okay. Maybe Sawyer would.

"You better not have gotten me sick."

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**A/N: So there it is! Didn't really measure up to what I imagined, but I think it's good enough and I'm glad to be done with this. I edited it after I completed it though so now I'm more satisfied with the result, and I hope you guys will be too! Please review! Thanks!**

**xox Sacha**


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